The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1887-03-18
her marriage.

ury, had cast him OIL for some noble
and wealthy suitor, determined TO go
to Paris and endeavor to have an inter-
view with the idol of his heart.
With the intention of carrying out
this design Henri arrived in the great
city, and forthwith secured modest
apartments in the Rue du Fouarre.
The next afternoon he presented
himself at the house of Madam Vaupil,
in the Place des Vosges.
Being ushered into the reception
room, he anxiously awaited the return
of the servant who had gone to an
nounce his presence.
The footman soon appeared with the
message that the mademoiselle was in
disposed and could not see him.
With heavy heart the young man
withdrew and retraced his steps TO his
cheeress abode.
Life had no beauty for him and the
future stretched out before him a heavy
path of blank darkness. Not once
orly did the waters of the Seine seem
his only refuge from the miseres of
the present and the hopelessness of the
future.
Unable to sleep, he got up that night
and wandered aimlessly through the
streets. Five o'clock struck in the
gloomy towers, but he still strobe on
1t was Sunday morning, and the stream
of people vending their way to mass
turned to look at the lonely youth, who
trudged oo, wrapped in the mantle Of
his antagonizing grief.
As he neared church into which
the people were entering he thought
he heard his name called.
Supposing it was but his thoughts
that Knocked him, he did not check, his
steps. Again there was the calling of
his name, follswed by shrek, and be-
fore he could look about him he felt his
neck encircled by a pair of tender
arms.
Looking up he was both dazed and
overjoyed at beholding Julie clinging
to his neck, her head nestled upon his
breast. He feared to move, lest he
should be dreaming and should awake
to the horrible reality of his loneliness
and misery. Her voice, when she
spoke, reassured him.
"Henri, you in Paris, and never came
10 see me. For shame Had l gone
to our old home at Auteuil, you
would have been the first one should
have flown to see."
Noticing that they were attracting
the attention of the early churchgoers,
Henri led Julie into side street and
beckoned her maid to follow, who had
been staring at the unwonted proceed
ing with open mouthed amazement.
As they walked Henri told Julie of
his visit to her house, and the servants
statement that she could not see him.
Julie protested that she had not known
of his presence in Paris, let alone that
he had called upon her. Her mother
must have instructed the servant to
make the statement.
Then came the whole story of Mad
am Vaupil's determination that she
should cast off Henri and wed the rich
Mr.. Boutegat.
"But," said Henri, 'if you do not
love him how can you marry him 7"
"Henri," she answered, ''if l did not
love you | could marry M. Boutegat,
and at least make dutiful, if not a
loving wife. But it would be only un-
holy, un-Godly to marry a man when
ones soul and life went out to another
Yet, my mother, whom | so dearly love,
although she has sorely tried my at-
fection, is sick, completely prostrated,
and the doctor tells me that unless her
mind is relieved of great burden from
which it evidently suffers a severe
strain, that she must surely succumb.
That means, my poor love, that l must
marry M. Boutegat, or my mother,
who shares my whole life with you,
must die. Oh, Henri, it's horrible y
"Mon Dieu !" exclaimed the now
half-distracted young man, SIT has
come to this My love is curse to
you, then. Do what you think is for
the best. Your mother, who has
greatly wronged me, must not die.
Save her life, for she is your mother,
and could not bear to see you grieve
over her loss I'D.
"Should marry M. Boutegat,' said
the heart-broken girl, "will you prom
ise me one thing? 1t is more than /
ought to expect, know, but will you
grant it T.
"Anything that can prove my love,
no matter how hopeless it may be-"
responded Henri.
"Will you-will you"-the young
girl hesitated, then, mastering up cour-
age, she looked straight into his face
with her tear .bedimmed eyes, and asked:
"Will you come to my wedding p
The young man started back, aud
stood as one petrfed, The two stood
looking fixedly at each other for some
moments, but neither ventured to
speak. Then with the air of one en-
dowed with courage born of sheer
hopelessness, Henri reached fort his
hand, and gently taking the limp hand
ct Julie in his own, tenderly kissed it
and answered.:
II will attend your Wedding
The two lovers now turned their
steps toward jules home, as mass was
over, and Madam Vaupil would expect
her daughter home.
The maid was cautioned not to men
ton the scene of which she had been
witness, although what it was all
about she had not the slightest COM
prehension.
When they had neared the Place des
Vosges they separated Julie to bear the
news TO her sick mother that she would
wed M. Boutegat, and Henri to hasten
to his modest apartments to ponder over
and try to realize the horrible events of
the chance meeting.
The day of the wedding had been
fixed, M. Bautegat having formally
proposed for the hand of Mademoselle
julie and had been accepted.
The dowry had been arranged, and
all things augured a brilliant affair.
As the time set for the nuptials drew
near Madam Vaupil's health improved,
and, indeed, she seemed TO find ample
strength to direct the preparations for
the great event